


The Price of Happiness

by unfolded73



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Captain Book, Captain Swan - Freeform, F/M, Smut, Swan Believer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 09:12:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8395942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfolded73/pseuds/unfolded73
Summary: What I imagine happened after 6x05 ended with Killian on the docks and Emma headed home to order food for them.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by j-philly-b. Spoilers for 6x05.

There was a light shining out from under the gap at the bottom of the door, and he hoped that meant she was awake. He tapped lightly with his hook, calling out “It’s Killian” so she wouldn't be afraid he was an unwelcome intruder.

“Come in,” Belle responded.

He opened the door to the captain’s quarters to see her sitting up in bed. 

“I'm sorry, love, I hoped you weren't abed just yet.”

“It's fine, I wasn't sleeping,” she said, holding up a book. His quarters were aglow in warm lantern light, but the air was chilled. Belle was cocooned under a heap of quilts and blankets; the weather was turning colder, and it occurred to him for the first time that his ship wouldn’t be adequate accommodations through the cold Maine winter. “What brings you back?” she asked, interrupting his musing. “Did you forget to pack something in that one little chest of yours?”

He smiled tightly. “Just need to put something away for safekeeping.” He walked over to the shelves, where his safe was located, and disconnected his hook from the brace. 

“Your new house isn't safe?” Belle asked. He could hear the frown in her voice.

Fitting the key at the end of his hook into the keyhole and twisting, the lock made a satisfying click. He opened the safe door and slipped the magical shears out of his coat pocket, putting them gently inside. He closed the safe and locked it, turning around to face Belle as he reattached his hook. Belle regarded him with a worried, open expression.

“You know what they say, you can take the pirate out of his ship…” He shrugged, hoping a glib answer would suffice.

“That isn't a thing people say, and I’m not even sure it makes sense.” Belle tilted her head to the side. “Is everything okay? You don't look like a man who's just begun sharing a home with his true love. You look worried.”

He was tired. Tired of being talked to, tired of being looked on with pity. The Charmings had been shooting him those sad, commiserating expressions all day, just like they did in Camelot, and he wasn't sure he could deal with it from Belle too. “It's just been a long day. There's always something in this town.”

“Yeah, but there's more going on with you than just Storybrooke craziness. Is Emma okay?”

“She’s fine, she…” He was slightly horrified to realize he was on the edge of tears. He’d been stoic all day, aside from a brief, angry outburst at Emma in the immediate wake of learning her secret. Since then he’d shuttered his own emotions as best he could, settling into the role of the Savior’s supportive boyfriend and trying not to feel the stark terror at the idea that he might lose her. After everything they’d been through, darkness and sacrifice and death and torture and walking through hell itself, only to have this hard-fought happiness slip through his grasp; he couldn’t bear it.

He hadn’t planned to tell Belle, but the words spilled out. “She’s been having visions of her death. She believes it’s soon, a battle she’s going to fight and lose and… and she didn’t tell me, or her family, not until she was forced to.” He swallowed around a lump in his throat. “Apparently being the Savior is a death sentence.”

“Oh, Killian, that's terrible.” She was watching him carefully. “And you’re angry she didn’t tell you.”

He shook his head. “I was at first, but I can’t blame her for that, really. How do you tell your parents and son and…” He faltered, attempting to name what he was to her. No word seemed sufficient. “If you truly believe that there’s no escaping your fate, how do you tell the people who love you that you’re going to die? How do you burden them with that knowledge? I’m not sure I wouldn’t have done the same thing, in her place.”

Belle got up from the bed, approaching him. He looked away from her concerned face, and from the figure she cut in her flimsy nightgown. “There must be a way to stop it though, right? We can't just let Emma die.”

“I know that,” he snapped. He clenched his teeth and felt the muscle in his jaw twitching. It made his jaw ache sometimes, that little tic. Emma had even pointed it out once, stroking his face and commenting that he'd grind his teeth down to nubs if he didn't relax. “I don’t intend to let her die.”

Belle shrugged on a robe and belted it at her waist before coming over and putting a hand on his arm. “I know you don't.”

“There is a way to stop this,” he blurted. “A device that will sever her connection to the magic that makes her the Savior. Aladdin was the Savior, and he cut himself off from it.”

“And?”

“She won’t do it. She’d rather remain the Savior and die.” He ran his hand over his face. “She’ll never choose me.”

“What do you mean?”

He pulled away, stalking over and turning his back, staring at the safe. “It’s nothing, I don’t really mean that. It’s not fair to Emma. And it’s selfish.”

Belle snorted. “So be selfish for a minute. You’re among friends.”

Killian turned to face her. “When she took the darkness inside of her, became the Dark One in order to save the town, there was a small, shameful part of me that felt like I wasn’t important enough for her to stay. That if somehow she loved me enough, or if I had been more worthy of her love, she wouldn’t have done it. She wouldn’t have made that sacrifice.”

“She’s the Savior,” Belle said simply.

“I know. I’m not saying it’s logical or fair to her, or even that it’s how I feel most of the time. I love her, everything about her, but I would love her just as much if she weren’t the Savior. Magic or no magic.”

“I think I know exactly how you feel,” Belle said with a sad smile.

“Why doesn’t she love me enough to just… live?”

“It’s not that she doesn’t love you enough, Killian, you know that’s not it.”

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes flicking up at the ceiling in an attempt to prevent any tears from falling. “I know.”

“I want to help if there’s anything I can do. Maybe research?”

He looked at her and raised an eyebrow, a tiny flicker of hope trying to catch fire deep in his heart. “Aladdin was a Savior, and now Emma… perhaps there have been others?”

Belle’s grin was wide. “First thing tomorrow I’ll head down to the library and see what I can find on Savior mythology.” She blew out a breath. “Anything to stop reading books that tell me everything that could possibly go wrong with my pregnancy in excruciating detail.”

“Thank you, Belle.”

“After everything you’ve done to help me lately? It’s the least I can do.”

 

~*~

 

“Are you sure you want Kung Pao shrimp?” Emma called from the kitchen, her phone in one hand and the little trifolded takeout menu in the other. “It’s got a little picture of a pepper next to it.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Henry responded, and she could hear his eyeroll all the way from the next room. 

She called and placed the order, tacking on an extra order of crab rangoon because why the hell not, and then returned to the living room where Henry had turned on the TV. She sat on the sofa next to him and kicked off her boots, stretching before putting her feet up on the coffee table. “Food’s on its way.”

“Where’s H— … Killian?” Henry said. She’d noticed him making an effort to refer to Killian by his given name lately, and it made her smile.

“Checking on the _Jolly Roger_. Probably looking in on Belle, while he’s at it. He’ll be here to eat with us.”

They stared at the television for a several minutes, watching the sitcom that was on the screen. Emma had no idea who the characters were, and neither she nor Henry laughed at any of the jokes. After a minute, Henry leaned over and put his head on her shoulder. It was startling; he had been less and less prone to display physical affection toward her as he got older, and she figured that was normal. This sudden childlike neediness made tears spring to her eyes.

Emma turned and put a quick kiss on the top of his head. She wanted to tell him everything was going to be fine, but it felt like a lie, and she knew he would see it as one.

“I love you, kid.”

“I love you, too, Mom.”

“School tomorrow,” she said, reaching for something normal. Tomorrow was Monday, and Henry would go to school and she would go to the sheriff’s station and maybe not think about her impending doom for a few minutes.

“Yeah.”

“Is all of your homework done?”

He sighed. “I’ll finish it after dinner.”

They watched TV for a little longer in silence. “How’s Violet?”

“Fine.”

Emma reached over for the remote and turned off the TV, dislodging Henry’s head from her shoulder. “You’re still feeling guilty,” she said, turning to look at him.

“If you die, how could I not?”

“First of all, maybe I won’t. Maybe there’s some other way. If anyone can find it, it’s our family.” Deep down, she didn’t really believe it. When the oracle told her that death, the one from her vision, was her destination, it felt real, it felt _true_. Gold always said magic comes with a price, and this time the price was going to be her life. All of this talk about a third option, one where she could stay the Savior and stay alive, felt like so much scrabbling at the ground for dead ambrosia fruit. Sometimes there was no way to cheat death.

On the other hand, apparently sometimes Zeus just decided to cheat death for you. Not that she thought any gods would intervene on her behalf this time. 

She didn’t share any of these morbid thoughts with Henry. She forced a smile onto her face and took his hand. “Your grandmother has always believed that when you love someone, there is always a way. And she’s always right. So let’s focus on that, okay?”

“Sure,” Henry said, but she could see the doubt in his eyes. Maybe she wasn’t the only one with a superpower when it came to lying.

“Look at it this way. What if you hadn’t come to Boston to get me and bring me to Storybrooke? Leaving aside how empty my life was and would likely continue to be, think about everyone else that you care about. David was in a coma, and married to the wrong woman. Baby Neal wouldn’t even have been born. Killian would be… I don’t know, still in the Enchanted Forest, trapped eternally with Cora. Belle would be locked in one of Regina’s cells. Regina herself wouldn’t have learned that she can be a good person. Your bravery helped so many people.”

“But I don’t want to lose you.”

Emma lost the battle she was fighting with her tears. “I know. I don’t want you to lose me either. But you have so many people who love you. Mary Margaret and David and Regina and Killian, any one of them would lift heaven and earth for you. And you’re so lucky, you have all four of them, helping you grow into the amazing and wonderful man that I know you’re going to be.”

Henry moved to hug her, and Emma wrapped her arms around him tightly, clinging so hard to him that she thought he might complain, but he didn’t. “Although if you keep growing this fast, pretty soon you’ll be towering over everyone,” she said, her voice wavering. “So maybe give the growing a rest, okay, kid?”

“I can’t help it, Mom,” he said into her shoulder. It was his standard response (Stop growing, she’d say, and I can’t help it, he’d answer), and it made her cry all the harder. 

The doorbell rang. 

“That’ll be the food,” Emma said, swiping under her eyes as she reached for the money she’d set out on the coffee table.

“I’ll get it, Mom,” Henry said, and Emma felt a stab of guilt that Henry was the one taking care of her when it should be the other way around. But she let him take the money and go to the door and pay the delivery driver while she worked to compose herself.

Killian finally walked through the door as she and Henry were finishing up their share of the Chinese food. The rain had started, and he shook droplets of water from his hair in the foyer.

“Hey,” she said, watching him as he hung up his jacket by the door and took off his boots. It still gave her butterflies in her stomach just to see him in their home, but after the day they’d had, and with how little talking they’d actually done, the butterflies were multiplying.

“Sorry it took me so long, love,” he said, eyeing her and Henry’s plates nervously. His leather jacket had kept most of the rain off his shirt, but his face and neck were wet, glistening in the warm light of the kitchen.

“It’s no problem, there’s tons left, I’ll microwave you some,” she said, picking up his empty plate from the table where Henry had set it and scooping some rice onto it. “You want the beef with broccoli?”

“That’s fine.”

“Do you want to change out of your wet clothes?” Emma asked.

He looked down at himself, running his palm over his damp jeans. “In a bit.”

Henry looked back and forth between the two of them, and then stood up and carried his plate to the sink to rinse it. “I’m gonna go get that homework done now,” he said, seemingly in a hurry to leave the kitchen. “I’ll see you later.” He disappeared up the stairs. 

Killian was scrutinizing her. “You’ve been crying.” 

She waved her hand, trying to dismiss his concern. “I just got emotional talking to Henry about… you know.”

He went over and poured himself a drink, and then sat down in what she was starting to think of as his chair. When the microwave dinged, Emma set the dinner plate down in front of him. He grabbed her hand as she started to pull it away, bringing it to his lips and kissing her fingers. “Thank you,” he said sincerely.

Emma snorted. “I ordered takeout and put it on a plate. I literally could not have done any less than this.”

“Still, having a home to come back to of an evening, it’s… nice.” A smile very briefly flickered on his face.

“It’s nice having you here. More than nice.” Emma sat down and picked up her fork, moving the remaining food around on her plate. She was no longer hungry, but she watched him eat in silence for a while. “You’re angry with me,” she finally blurted.

Killian looked up, startled out of his thoughts. “I’m really not, Emma. Of course I wish you had told us, or at least told me, what was going on in your head. But I understand why you didn’t.”

“I was trying to protect you.”

“I know.” He reached out and took her hand again. “But I don’t need protecting.”

Emma felt tears welling up behind her eyes again. “I just… I wanted you to believe in our happy ending for as long as possible.”

She felt his fingers squeeze hers almost painfully. “I still do.” After a beat, Killian suddenly cleared his throat, trying to shake off the heavy mood. He dropped her hand and took a swig from his glass. “So how about that fire you mentioned?”

Emma glanced over at the fireplace, still dark and unlit. “Or we could just forget the fire and go straight to bed,” she said, blushing slightly. “We still need to get you out of your wet clothes.”

Killian raised an eyebrow. “Very subtle, Swan.”

“How’s this for subtle: I’d like to go to bed right now and have sex with you.” 

“Last night didn’t satisfy you?” he said with a grin.

Emma took his hand and led him up the stairs. “Maybe I just want an encore.”

He followed her passively until they were behind the closed door of their bedroom, and then he was on her in an instant, his mouth hot and needy against the delicate skin of her throat. Emma struggled with the button on his jeans, the damp fabric making it more difficult to operate. She thumbed it open and pulled the zipper down, palming his erection and smiling as he sucked harder on her neck in reaction, a groan rumbling through his chest.

Emma pulled away, a small smirk on her face, and started unfastening the delicate buttons of her blouse. “I’m removing this before you rip the buttons off.”

“That was once, and it was an accident.” His own hand went to the buttons of his shirt as he mirrored her. She stared at the way his jeans hung open and low around his hips and for a moment she could forget all of it, the fact that she had lied and the fact that she might be killed soon, and just focus on the fact that this man was hers and he loved her and he really was just _criminally_ hot.

When he had stripped naked, brace and hook tossed carelessly to the floor, he pulled her back into his arms, his lips closing around her nipple through the lacy fabric of her bra. His cock brushed her stomach and Emma reached down again, closing her fingers around it and stroking. 

“Gods, Emma, I need you.” 

“Yeah,” she gasped, guiding them onto the bed. So far Killian had proved himself to be a compulsive bedmaker, and she felt the slightly scratchy texture of her quilt under her back as she pulled him down on top of her, spreading her legs and cradling his hips. 

His tongue explored her mouth as his hips rutted, his cock hard and grinding, the friction of her underwear making it feel that much better. Emma gasped, her hand drifting down and clutching his ass. 

Killian shifted to one side, his hand fumbling as he maneuvered it under her panties, fingers sliding inside and fucking her slowly, making her moan. He took his time with it, alternating between plunging his fingers deep into her and then pulling out and rubbing his wet fingers against her clit; soft, small circles edging her higher and higher. She could feel herself getting slicker, could hear the sound of it in their quiet bedroom. It was so good, _he_ was so good, and she wanted a lifetime of this, a lifetime of them giving each other pleasure. Learning each other and trying new things, that’s what they deserved. What they’d earned. For a just a moment, she wanted to scream at the universe for how unfair it was.

Shaking her head to banish those dark thoughts, Emma pushed at Killian’s shoulder, making him lie back as she rose up and hovered over him. She peeled her underwear down her legs and tossed them aside, then reached behind her back to unfasten her bra, all the while watching Killian as his eyes drank her in. She shimmied down his body, her hot breath teasing his abdomen as she positioned herself over his cock. She closed her fist around him, giving him a couple of experimental strokes.

His hand settled on the back of her head, fingers stroking her hair. “You don’t need to, love,” he murmured.

“I like this, you know that,” she said as she ghosted her mouth over the tip of his cock, teasing him. Her knees straddled one of his legs and she lowered her hips enough to grind against his shin, just a little bit. Giving him a smile, she bent over and took his entire length into her mouth suddenly, and she reveled in his strangled gasp. His hand clenched in her hair, and as she moved her mouth over him she continued to grind her hips, and _fuck_ , she could come this way, she really could, but before she could get a good rhythm going he was stopping her.

“Come up here and fuck me, Swan.” His voice was gravely, and impossibly sexy.

Emma crawled back up his body, moving over him and sinking down and taking him deep in one stroke. Killian’s mouth went straight to one of her breasts, his groans muffled against her skin as he kissed and sucked at her. She felt so full, he filled her so well, and every movement of her pelvis sent electric shocks of pleasure up her spine and down to her toes. He rolled his hips, his feet sliding up the bed to get more leverage to thrust inside her. She wanted it to last, she wanted to have this feeling forever, but she could feel herself getting close and from the sound of his voice, she could tell Killian was close to coming too, both of them careening quickly toward the end. Their sweat-slicked bodies moved together, their shared gasps into each other’s mouths as they pushed each other, more and more and more until Emma climaxed, biting his shoulder to keep herself from making too much noise. Killian groaned softly through his clenched jaw when he came a few seconds after, his hand gripping her almost painfully as his hips stuttered to a stop.

Collapsing over his chest, Emma pressed her lips gently to the bite mark she’d left, her breathing fast and heavy. She felt Killian relax, his hand coming around the stroke up and down her spine as they came down together.

“I love you,” Emma whispered into his skin. _Don’t let this be the last time_ , she thought, and wondered if she was doomed to wonder every time they made love if it would be the last. If their precious days together were almost up. 

“I love you, too,” he answered. “For as long as I live.” 

Emma’s eyes squeezed closed and she clung to him tightly. _Don’t_ , she wanted to say. _You’ll have to let me go._ But she kept quiet, holding onto him, letting the moment be quiet and still. Everything was just the two of them, together, and the price she would have to pay for all of this happiness would have to wait at least one more night.


End file.
